Chapter 33 Livvie
LIVVIE
The wind tugs loose strands of my hair as I stand at the mouth of an old pier.
Sulfurous dried seaweed and the acrid waft of fuel swirl in the air. Miles away, the city hums, a dull reminder of how isolated I am, how alone I’ve made myself.
Beneath my track shoes, the concrete is cracked, and it makes me wonder if there are skeletons buried in the warehouse foundation.
Waves crash against the rocks under the pier, the splashing almost louder than my thumping heartbeat.
My breath comes in shallow gasps, the salty breeze catching in my throat.
This is way out of my comfort zone and what I’m about to do could spiral out of control at any moment.
Two men stand before me. One wears a plain black mask. No mouth or nostril holes, only slots for cold eyes.
Whereas the other man hasn’t bothered disguising his face. He’s the guy who met with Roman before I stabbed him.
I thought there would be more than two Red Tribunal members at the meeting. More people to reason with. A chance to bargain with a full jury.
"I’ve come here to turn myself in. I’ll do whatever you ask of me, except kill Kingston. This isn't me disobeying an order. I’m offering an alternative.”
The unmasked man laughs darkly, a sound so low and mocking, it sends a chill down my spine.
"Bold move." His eyes gleam with amusement. "You think by sacrificing yourself, you’ll save him? That you’re somehow buying him time?"
My heart pounds in my chest. “Can we find another way… come to an agreement?”
The masked man stands beside him, not speaking, his presence a threat, but it’s the unmasked man who continues the conversation.
"Tell me, Livvie," he says, stepping closer, his eyes scanning my clothes, measuring my height, stripping me down with just a glance. "Are you ready to die for him? Because that’s what this is about now."
My stomach churns, and panic rises in my throat, choking me. I’ve made my choice. I’ve already committed to this, but the way he says it, so matter-of-factly, makes it seem like a simple business transaction.
The cold finality of it sinks deeper than I’d expected. Truth is, I’m already preparing for what comes next. For what I must do.
And a part of me still aches, knowing I’ll lose him forever.
“Give me another assignment. I’ll go after someone else,” I say, my voice shaking but desperate.
He laughs in a short sharp burst. “They’re not interested in offering you another assignment. You made your choice the moment you showed up here. You’re not in control, and you’re certainly not a negotiator. As it stands, you’re a liability.”
He draws his gun. “And now, your life is the price of that mistake.”
That might be so, but I didn’t come unprepared. I’ve participated in murder before. My soul’s already black with guilt.
What's one more death to hide in my shadow, if it's for the right reasons.
Vigilantes kill the bad guys all the time. They get justice their way.
I swallow the bitter taste of my rationale, almost laughing at the irony. This was inevitable, wasn’t it? The monster my father always expected me to evolve into, the one I’ve fought so hard not to be… is who I’ve become.
For Kingston. For them.
The weight of a gun, tucked to my waist under my track pants, gives me comfort and the knife strapped on the inside of my ankle is the backup plan.
“I didn’t come here to die.” I glare at him.
“Are you seriously telling me the Red Tribunal won’t reconsider the order and give me another hit?
Kingston isn’t a threat to you. We did what was asked of us.
We followed through on the order to marry, so killing him doesn't make sense. There were bigger plans for us. Give us a chance to carry them out.”
He doesn't lower his aim when he takes a step closer, his pinprick pupils jet-black in the expanse of storm gray.
In a beat, I draw my gun, the cold metal hard in my hand as I take aim at his smug face. His eyes narrow to slits, a hint of amusement there, but it’s more dangerous than before.
My finger tightens around the trigger when his expression tells me this isn’t a game I can win.
“Silly girl.” His voice is calm, almost spooky. “You think pulling a gun will make it all go away?”
Next to us, the masked man draws a gun, strides into my personal space, and jabs my temple with the barrel.
“This will only go one way,” the unmasked man sneers. “You shoot me, he shoots you, and your husband will still die. This little show of yours will be in vain when your dead body is found bloated and washed up on the shore, and Kingston, well, his head will be shipped to his father in a gift box.”
A smirk spreads across his face and anger bubbles up like venom in my throat. Before I know it, I’ve spat in his face. “Fuck you.”
The gun wedged into my temple digs in deeper.
“For your disobedience…” He wipes away the spittle. “The Red Tribunal will sentence everyone you love to death. Your family. Your friends. Everyone you’ve ever cared for.”
His face looms before me. “Not so fucking brave now, are you, O’Callaghan scum?”
I realize the magnitude of the situation as it plays out before me. I’d already made my choice, sacrificing myself to save Kingston, but the stakes are higher than I ever imagined.
And there’s no backing out.
“What now?” I ask, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to stay calm.
I steel my spine and stand tall, even as panic claws at the edges of my thoughts.
The unmasked man looks at me with that smug glare, as if he already knows I have no other option.
“Did you tell your husband about the planned meeting here today?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head.
“Then maybe we can have a little fun before my friend here blows a hole in your pretty Irish brain.”
My stomach twists with a sickening sense of finality. Even though I’m trapped, there’s still time. Whatever he’s planning might give me an opportunity to lash out. Shoot… or stab the fucker.
While my thoughts turn dark, the low rumble of engines carries in the breeze, coming nearer, until a fleet of blacked-out SUVs roar into the lot across from the pier.
I know who it is before they even stop.
The doors fling open in perfect synchrony, and men spill out, towering figures full of power. Their clothes are dark, bulletproof vests tight to their chests, and weapons drawn.
Their movements are professional, men who were trained from childhood to be violent.
The Viacavas have arrived with reinforcements.
Led by my husband.
My pulse spikes when they fan out, each man falling into position, guns at the ready, scanning the area for snipers.
At the forefront is Kingston, his broad shoulders filling out a black shirt under his vest. His thick hair tousles in the wind, and his eyes lock on me.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise in a tingled wave when our gazes clash.
That familiar look of his is harsher than I’ve ever seen it, destructive almost.
Behind him are the others, a wall of muscles and danger waiting for his order. The Viacavas aren’t just a mafia family; they’re a living, breathing empire in the flesh.
The sight of them coming to my rescue, a woman who used to be the enemy, sets something alight in me.
Their eyes seem to pierce straight through me, but there’s a strange mixture of ownership in their gazes, as if I’m a Viacava despite what their father thinks.
Bronx appears to our left, tall and imposing, his jawline cutting through inky stubble. His eyes flicker over me, reading the trouble I’ve gotten myself into.
Then there’s Reign who freakily resembles his brothers. A guy who’d tear the world apart with his bare hands.
He prowls closer, his charcoal shirt tight and hair long enough to sweep back off his forehead. His irises are the shade of soot and flames and part of me wonders if he’s just here to quench a blood lust.
They’re a pack of wolves, fierce and untouchable, and I can’t look away even though there's a gun digging into the side of my head.
Ripples of their threat move through the atmosphere, dark and lethal.
And when Kingston leaves the pack, his self-assured strides heading toward me, my muscles brace and my feet itch to run to him.
He holds up his gun, the barrel steady and unwavering, his finger poised over the trigger.
Kingston’s gaze flicks from the two men to me. His expression is tight, eyes dark and ferocious with the ability to dominate and take control.
His presence consumes everything around us. He’s here, and nothing will stand in his way.
“I don’t give a fuck who you think you are or what fucking orders you have. You’re in my territory now,” he says. “And I’d advise you to take your fucking hands off my wife.”
With a chilling slow step, the unmasked man moves behind me, his arm hooking around my neck and his gun jabbing my belly.
“Now, now, Kingston,” the unmasked man taunts. “She came to me with a death wish. Who am I to ignore that?”
Kingston glares at him, the mask of control slipping for the first time in front of me. The look in his eyes is something I’ve never seen—raw, helpless maybe.
His jaw tightens, his features twisting, a shadow of violence I’ve always known was there, but now it’s something to fear.
“Step the fuck away from her.” Kingston’s voice is a deep snarl. “Let her go now, or I will make sure that bullet in your gun will be the last one you ever fire.”
Kingston’s body vibrates with the promise of violence, but it’s not enough to make the man release me.
So I stamp my foot down on his, my knees bending on instinct, my body dropping low. While adrenaline pumps faster, a blistering pain bursts through my shoulder like a red-hot poker.
The world around me spins, the crack of gunfire distant as if it came from another world.
My lungs cramp as the fire in my shoulder explodes, and then everything starts to blur. My body becomes heavy, unresponsive, like I'm floating just outside myself.
The pain is unbearable, a surging wave that makes me want to puke. A warmth pools against my skin, and when I strain to look, blood hemorrhages through the fabric.
Everything seems so far away now and my eyelids struggle to stay open, my mind sinking into the darkness.
The sounds around me are muffled and distorted. Kingston’s deep voice breaks through the fog, but it’s fading too.
I try to reach for him, to hold on, but my arm won’t respond and I don’t know how much longer I can fight.
Kingston collapses beside me, hands trembling as he cups my face, his voice raw, like it’s torn from his throat.
“No… no, Livvie. Jesus fuck, baby. Stay with me, please,” he begs, his voice cracking.
His fingers press against the blood soaking through my hoodie, but he’s frantic, unable to stop the panic from flooding him.
“Look at me, princess. Please… I need you to stay with me.”
His eyes water with the horror of it all, and as my own flutter closed, I realize he loves me, too.
“I’d die for ya, King—”